Darth Maul vs Superman - Episode II
by dannytyang
Summary: EPISODE II - The Man of Steel loses himself in a memory spent in the fields of Smallville before being plunged back into a maelstrom of battle between him and the legendary Sith assassin Darth Maul.


DARTH MAUL VS. SUPERMAN

EPISODE II

Sunshine basked on rippling stalks of wheat that stretched to an endless horizon; if there was a better symbol for the hope of humanity Clark Kent could not find one. The Kryptonian inhaled deeply, free of the stressors of a city, a country, a planet. The acres of this quiet land brought Earth's adopted son a private solace that penetrated the daily turmoil of the life of the Man of Steel. Despite the changes he had incurred over the turbulent times since his "Superman" persona's first appearance, the farm consistently remained his touchstone; an eternal fixture of the mind readily bringing forth memories of Clark's idyllic past. The Man of Steel searched for a sanctuary of the heart for the entirety of his unsettled adolescent life, only finding it during manhood amongst the age old crop fields of the Kent Farm; the only place on Earth planet he felt the peace of a place called home.

The rays of Earth's yellow sun cast warmth on Clark's skin, and, as he closed his eyes, a soft Kansas wind raced over him emerging from impossibly blue skies. Kal-El removed the useless spectacles he wore, letting the translucent glow of the sun's radiation energize his cells, bathing his body in a nourishing aura. He found a true grace amongst the nature of his adopted home, though reluctantly acknowledging that mankind, for all its potential, acknowledged strife and misery more readily than any lasting brotherhood.

A frown creased the brow of the Last Son of Krypton as he meditated on his condition. With age and time, the Man of Steel came to an uneasy agreement between the thoughts that resided in his character, for he was a child of two worlds, precariously perched on an eternal slate of danger. The Earth with its violent character would always be a breath away from self-destruction, but worse, Krypton was no more, its only legacy carried within Kal-El's mortal vessel. His responsibility on Earth overshadowed the memory he carried of a long dead world that lived now only within his private genealogy.

The skin around Clark's eyes wrinkled with thoughts born from memories quite the opposite of the Kansas twilight that surrounded him. For when Clark Kent conjured images of the streets of Metropolis in his mind's eye, he immediately did so with eternal caution, remembering moments where his enhanced hearing became more curse than benefit. Life in the largest city on the planet was notoriously difficult, even for a Superman. Clark, at times, compared the city to residing in a high-priced refugee camp: It was the world's priciest extended stay hotel, and people of all walks of life ventured to the city, living though the vast human energy that pulsated amongst the sheer mass of humanity. It was a radiance that was cast on every inhabitant that lived amongst the hustle and bustle of the pinnacle of all contemporary urban landscapes. And yet, despite the constant stimulation, Clark knew the City of Metropolis was the last place anyone could genuinely call home.

He opened his eyes, now seeing the land of his childhood. The solitary nature of what was beholden to him invigorated Clark Kent, the man that was raised in a town jokingly referred to as Smallville.

_You can take the boy out of Smallville, but never the Smallville out of the…_

But then Kal-El thought of Metropolis's need for him. A desperate need. The screams, the cries, the world deprived of laughter and love, that held baited breath underneath the specter of brutality called to Clark and him alone for rescue. At times the Man of Steel was lost amongst the sea of violence that lived underneath Metropolis's countenance of civility. Then the harshness of word that was evoked by these beings once they were defeated at the hands of the Man of Steel provided him with yet another view of the ugliness of mankind. Though he always held his fists as well as his tongue, Superman always held a constant thought at bay: Is mankind's history made a moment better by Superman's involvement?

Clark's resentment of his position on his adopted world boiled with dark thoughts as he realized that with his abilities he could act as executioner as well as judge. The Man of Steel caught himself entangled in his own secret fury, understanding innermost thoughts that too closely resembled that of his birth father's murderer, the species-centric General Zod. It was Zod that chastised the younger, bastardized Krytonian, who indicated in no uncertain words that the displacement of an entire species of humanity meant nothing in order to revive their own master race. It pained him to remember the words that Zod spoke. Of how Kal-El turned his back on his own biological species, his only true kin in the universe, to protect and honor beings that were mere microbes on an evolutionary scale.

Zod defined the situation with words that cut straight to the heart of the Man of Steel, for Kal-El knew the words rang with the truthfulness of a pained logic. Earth's own history was defined by each succeeding civilization displacing the native inhabitants, colonizing new lands while displaying complete apathy towards those that came before. Time and time again, Clark realized that Earth's history has been of the greater taking from the weaker underneath a banner of entitlement or a misguided sense of manifest destiny.

_Are all great things of this planet, this universe, built amongst the cowering of the lesser?_

Jonathan Kent, in order to hide his adopted son from the scorn of ignorance, had told Clark of the folly of belief in a species still more caveman then man. After Clark's act of bravery and kindness upon saving the lives of his fellow classmates caught in a freak bus accident, he remembered his father's fateful words. Jonathan Kent questioned whether Clark should have allowed those children to perish even though Clark alone possessed the power to save them. His father believed in the land of the spiritual, of a creator, of a world beyond death. Where his faith lacked was in his own species; humanity.

_Was dad right? Was Zod logically the next step in the history of the planet Earth?_

These questions weighed heavily on the young Kryptonian, and only a venture to the warm breezes of the Kent farm, safe from the cries and screams of the city allowed him a peace that was ill-suited for a being coined the Man of Steel.

His footsteps echoed on the planks of wood of Martha Kent's porch as he approached the house. Countless times he had raced through the screen door, thumped over those very same wooden planks, raced past the windmill, to farmland beyond. Clark opened the screen door slowly, making sure its creaky hinges didn't announce his presence. He walked inside, familiar with the surroundings. Same end tables, same couch, same chairs, maybe a new set of flowers; a new frame on an old photo, but everything was timeless, a window to Clark's youth that would forever be there for him. The new television that he had bought his mother still sat in a box, next to the dinosaur model that was almost as large as a dining room table.

_She's waiting for me to put it together_, Clark smiled. _Good ole' Mom, always the technophobe, even with a spaceship sitting in her barn for nearly three decades_.

Clark remained silent as he walked through his old home out of respectfulness to his mother, but also to silently gauge how she currently lived. The upkeep of the house was slightly slack, only minute enough for his Kryptonian eyes to catch; the subtle lack of dusting, the almost fastidious use of wood oil on the wooden banister and staircase that Martha Kent used to express monthly had not been done for some time.

He realized that he had not been back to Smallville to help out his mother, Clark admitted to himself guiltily. The time spent at The Daily Planet, with its exceedingly short deadlines, the low pay, the constant threat of being laid off in another round of cutbacks, made Clark Kent a tireless worker in the office.

And then, there was Lois and the growing difficultly in restraining his obvious feelings for her. He wondered if it was reciprocal, as she bounced from one story to the next, as if her Pulitzer was more of a burden than a professional recognition. Clark's physiology required little rest, yet when he entered the office or left the offices of The Daily Planet, Lois Lane always seemed knee deep in a lead, a hunch, a story in some distant corner of the world while never holding the same interest for the world that immediately surrounded her. In the office, she never looked at him twice, and more than once demanded errands from the junior reporter from some Podunk town that no one had ever heard of.

_They're saying we're going all electronic next year. That means typesetters are getting cut, the presses are going to lose some more machinists, and they're still picking up junior rubes from the barn?_

Clark understood the competitive nature of journalism, with the Internet creating the death buzz of the end of printed media. And Clark, with his outwardly mastery of the primitive computer system that he had to dial down in front of his colleagues, was the threat to a system that was archaic and tilting on its foundations.

But despite the logic in Lois Lane ignoring him at The Daily Planet, it didn't help assuage the deep seated bitterness he felt in being left out of the social elite of journalism.

_She's pushing me away,_ he thought, and at times, despite how well he grew to cherish her company in a silent meeting of hands underneath a table, like school kids in junior high, she was constantly vigilant in his presence. At first, Clark thought it was due to the game their roles required them to play; he was a junior reporter from nowhere, she was at the top of the field and had her pick of coverage, and each was supposedly unacquainted.

_And the government still observed her, tapped her phones, and invaded her privacy in the ways it knew how. Still…not like having drones flying over you, constantly trying to gauge your strengths like a science project._

It was horrible, considering the cost of the aircrafts, but the Man of Steel had no qualms about wrecking the unguided aerial vehicles. He was tempted to fly to the military bases and preemptively destroy the spying devices, but he held his anger in check.

Lois, on the other hand, could never hope to protect her privacy in remotely the same manner, yet there was no escaping her own newfound fame; Superman, as she had so coined, was the biggest story in the history of humanity, a story that had already been spoken in a global dialogue with universal fervor. The strain of their relationship pushed her deeper into her work, further from him, and soon he wondered aloud if their bond could endure the scrutiny of an entire planet.

There were attempted amends as he bought her modest flowers in a vain attempt to rendezvous at a small, out of the way restaurant that coworkers at The Planet would never stumble upon. Lois never showed, choosing to leave a voicemail, explaining about a story she couldn't easy rip herself from. _Another story of yet another banana republic, in a hellhole of Earth promising the destruction of the American way._ _She'd miss him, was already on a plane, and didn't want him to know where she was going because he'd stop her._

Funny, he thought, she'd take an assignment in a warzone to get away from what she…what they both had become. In her message, with a patois of desperation, Lois blurted that she had to go back to being who she was before all of "this craziness" invaded her life. So it was no surprise that Clark found himself returning to Smallville to do very much the same. He needed to know who he was beyond the Man of Steel, beyond being Superman to the planet Earth, beyond being a form of living impedance to a human woman who he had developed feelings for.

Clark, lost in thought, reeling in aspects of his own personal world of great and small, absentmindedly stumbled upon one of Martha Kent's most private moments. Once again his world was made all the more fragile, and more importantly, it was a fragility that there was no return from.

* * *

The flash of ruby colored light swirled violently above Kal-El's head, briefly grazing the side of his skull; as the lightsaber briefly kissed the side of his face, the Man of Steel reached out in obvious pain. Swatting Maul's bladed instrument away only made Kal-El's situation worse as the Sith reversed his swing, spinning the deadly blades of his lightsaber until the second blade of the double bladed weapon careened off the other side of the Man of Steel's face.

The maneuver was so deft, so remorseless and perfect in execution, that the Man of Steel was more surprised than pained; no being had ever matched his true Kryptonian reactions, a level of speed that he kept in check to blend in amongst Earthlings. But here, in this barren wasteland of a planet, his speed was simply not enough. The Man of Steel's agony enraged him to the point that he swung blindly at the demon like visage of the creature, only to miss Darth Maul completely.

_Your movements are telling, young fool._

The thought appeared in Kal-El's mind as this…Darth Maul...extended his arm out, striking out with an invisible force that felt as though it would separate Clark's head from his body.

_You are spoiled child of considerable strength. But not a warrior…_

The words again appeared in Kal-El's mind blinding him once again to the onslaught that the Sith exuded from his lithe form. The Last Son of Krypton opened his eyes only to have Maul rip rock and gravel from the barren ground, launching the debris at the Man of Steel's eyes.

Superman, in one of the rare moments of his young life, was completely defensive, absorbing the burning blows of Maul's dual headed lightsaber. The Sith swung with impunity against the Kryptonian's defenses, scorching Kal-El's skin with controlled, precise strikes. Kal-El realized that Darth Maul was not faster than the Man of Steel, even in Superman's damaged state, but the creature seemed to have the precognitive foresight to know when Kal-El would move and what he would do.

Reacting to the blows, Kal-El was deflecting the worst of Darth Maul's slashes with his own hands, glancing blows nevertheless rendering his limbs numb, his pain receptors cast in a swirling agony no mere mortal could ever hope to endure.

Clark sensed the advantage the Sith was exercising over his being; the cunning creature had a foothold in his mind, goading him into standing his ground, maneuvering him like a puppet. With his strength and speed, the Man of Steel was fooled into thinking this creature would be a lesser adversary only to discover that his Kryptonian physiological advantages were easily nullified with Sith battle tactics. It was not his Kryptonian might that would defeat this beast of a man. If he were to survive this encounter with Darth Maul, the Man of Steel would need to defeat him with thought first, then brawn.

The Man of Steel reached into the depths of his own mind, realizing that this creature had played with his emotions, bringing out the worst in Kal-El's Kryptonian heritage. Kryptonians as a species had been so dominant for so many eons that they perished out of sheer pride; pride that their vast intellect and technology could not succumb to the simplicity of resource overuse. It was this same pride bordering on arrogance that would lead to the Kryptonian's demise unless he himself changed. With a deep breath, the Man of Steel consciously altered the directness of his ham fisted attack, altering his posturing of sheer power in an attempt to match his adversary's immense advantage in martial skill, sheer brutality, and unwavering will.

It was the Man of Steel that executed a faint with his southpaw, but it was Clark Kent who remembered the boxing maneuver taught to him in his tumultuous adolescence by Jonathan Kent. The move, so sudden, done without forethought, was seemingly ignored by Maul's offensive posture; Maul's experience with all things martial was near impossible to faze, the Sith never appearing to be caught unaware or on his heels in battle. However, the appearance of this tactical inclusion, from a being he otherwise considered a skill-less combatant no less, instilled a moment of surprise in Darth Maul.

Kal-El, fatigued and disoriented from Maul's vicious and continuous onslaught, quickly realized this was the moment; the only crack in the Dark Lord's superior battle tactics. Sensing his opening, Superman struck with what was left of his rapidly diminishing reservoir of energy. Swallowing his pride, the Man of Steel decided to backpedal.

The Man of Steel channeled all that remained of his strength, expelling it in a single, violent outburst of energy, propelling himself into the air in a desperate leap. The Sith derived little satisfaction from the Kryptonian's retreat, restraining himself from swinging his lightsaber, already calculating the futility of an attempted melee attack on the mobile Kryptonian. The Sith watched as the Kryptonian created separation between the two combatants, rescuing his cowardly self from the continuous attack of the Dark Lord's dual bladed, crimson weapon.

_You cannot escape coward_, the Dark Lord said aloud_, And your pleas will go unheard when my blade meets your worthless hide_. Despite the Man of Steel's temporary respite from the Sith's intolerable offensive, Kal-El knew it was a temporary respite and prepared himself from the inevitable Sith attack.

Darth Maul calmly gestured with his fingers, a faint movement so subtle on first glance it was innocuous; what ensued was wrought with devastating consequences. Superman heard the faint whirl of machinery and spun to see the obsidian probe droids angling, towards him from separate, angles, flanking him. The probes' turbolasers simultaneously created an explosion of plasmatic light against his torso and the small of his back, sending him somersaulting in the air. The Man of Steel crashed to the ground, landing in a rough crouch. His impact created a cracked divot in the hard packed, red soil before the Superman sprung into the air as the two droids flew past him, banking to make another pass.

The Man of Steel dodged another series of quick blasts from both automations, twisting in the air, while focusing his eyes on one of the black droids. His orbital bones glowed in various scarlet hues as his eyes erupted with twin beams of deadly light, immediately cutting down one of the droid sentries, turning the deadly machine into a husk of burning metal.

Superman fought his natural instinct to track the remaining aerial droid, seeing it as another distractive measure in Darth Maul's battle plan. The Kryptonian turned quickly, expecting to see Darth Maul's hideous face on the spearhead of another attack, however, what Kal-El noticed was a shimmering cloud in the distance solidify into the distinct triangular shaped of a familiar silver starcraft. The Sith Interceptor, Darth Maul's flagship, was airborne and armed, having dropped its invisibility cloak and launched a barrage of turbo laser artillery fired from its immense arsenal. The Man of Steel leapt away from the swath of destruction created by the Sith craft; the small tactical victory Kal-El had won by avoiding Maul's use of the Sith Interceptor as a flanking tactic was short lived as a rolling Droideka emerged, halting its forward movement to engage its static force shield.

Kal-El took to the air, backpedaling from the Droideka as it fired its lasers remorselessly at the Kryptonian. Quick to understand that the droid was only effective as a firing platform and lacked mobility, Superman accelerated, the remnants of his cape fluttering behind him as put distance between him and the Droideka's position.

The Man of Steel turned to face forward only to find the Sith had picked that moment to spring his trap.

Superman barely avoided Maul's lightsaber swing as he rocketed by Kal-El in his swoop bike. The Sith had attempted a killing blow, and Maul, foiled with the Kryptonian's resilience, angled the bike, turning his agile vehicle in a tight turn in an effort to reengage the Kryptonian.

Caught in a killing box, Superman sought an escape from the near continuous ambush. The Man of Steel broke through a weakness in the firing line, his outstretched arm steadying his form as he violently accelerated. He glanced ahead of him to make sure he wasn't being led to another Sith ruse. It was clear skies in front of him, but Kal-El could hear the Sith's mechanical platoon rushing to reposition themselves for another attack. The Sith Interceptor moved its rough, triangular form, within firing distance of Superman, but the Man of Steel had already altered his tactics; his eyes searched for the shrouded man, Darth Maul, for the demon-like figure was the source of the attack.

It was he that was to be made to suffer for this affront. And to end this attack, the Man of Steel understood he must end Darth Maul in one fashion or another.

The Sith Interceptor fired at Superman with its heaviest weaponry, each blast strong enough to level a mountain. But, the Man of Steel remained unfazed, his bloodlust eager for an attempt to conduct a true offensive against his tormentor. Painfully shrugging off turbolaser blasts, Superman ignored Maul's mechanical troops, streaking towards Maul and his swoop bike at top speed. The bold maneuver surprised the Sith, catching him off guard.

"You should have followed your backstabbing attack with a few more of your toys," the Man of Steel roared before superheated crimson rays erupted from his pupils; the Sith activated the blades of his lightsaber with barely enough time to deflect Kal-El's heat vision. Nevertheless, the sheer power behind the rays of Superman's optical assault propelled the Sith off his swoop bike, sending Maul into a desperate leap from his involuntarily jettisoned vehicle.

The Dark Lord, landed on two feet, then tumbled and roll, before steadying himself into fighting position; the Sith's Jedi abilities cushioned his impact as he tumbled upon the ground. However, the speed in which his body was dashed upon the ground, disoriented the Sith creature. The swoop bike quickly disappeared from view; Darth Maul lost his only means of escape, but a Sith never truly retreats.

Mounting rage fed the Sith's red hide as he moved his fingertips once more, covert signals to his metal army. The Interceptor, now high enough in the air to perform aerial maneuvers, lanced towards the Man of Steel. A small squad of Super Battle Droids, dispatched from the back of the Sith Interceptor through guide lines, maneuvered behind Kal-El, while a single Droideka rolled into position from the east.

"Attack the Kryptonian fool," the Sith roared uncharacteristically, "blot his cursed figure from the sky! So says I, Lord Darth Maul, your master."

The positioning of all of the Dark Lord's assets, which surrounded the weakened Kryptonian, fired a massive, synchronized volley at the now exhausted Kal-El. He dodged the energy projectiles as best he could, deflecting any projectiles that he could not outmaneuver.

_I must keep my focus on this dark creature. It is his savagery, his focused, animal-like cunning that propels this attack. He is as powerful and skilled as he is evil and soulless._

Then Clark smiled inwardly as he remembered…

_I work for Perry White, so I should be used to those kinds of characters. Live and learn._

He spotted Darth Maul running with Force velocity; though slower than Kal-El's natural Kryptonian speed, Maul's ability was enhanced with an aura of dark energy. With the Sith's mechanical squadron forcing Kal-El to perform a series of aerial acrobatics to remain unmarred by their deadly blasts, the Man of Steel was once again on the defensive, lacking the energy for a sustained battle, nor knowing for how much longer he could continue his survivalist posture.

Yet despite the automaton attack, Superman forced himself closer to Darth Maul; if he had any chance to attack him he must do so now. Clark maintained his focus on the Sith, for he understood beyond words, beyond emotions, that this being was death in the flesh. Death, Clark thought with a moment of regret, for he understood the tragedy of death in a definitive manner that only absolute zero could render into reality.

END DARTH MAUL VS. SUPERMAN - EPISODE II


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